


Working Hard

by Symxalia



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akiren week day two, Allusions to abuse, Gen, iwai and his begrudging fatherly instincts, working hard/slacking off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-07 07:01:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18405536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Symxalia/pseuds/Symxalia
Summary: Iwai's not sure what to think of the new kid who looks too tired and too vigilant for his age that's been coming around the shop lately.





	Working Hard

“So kid, you working hard or hardly working?” Iwai laughs as the teenager in front of him scoffs, clearly annoyed by the question.

 

“I haven’t slept in two days, you decide.”

 

The kid does look like he could use some sleep, his hair is rumpled and his eyes, from what he can see below the glasses, bear deep bags. 

 

“I can tell, there was a cop earlier wanting to do a cavity search in those bags of yours.” he jokes, then bookends his statement with a question, “What’s a kid like you gotta stay up so much for?”

 

There’s a split second where the kid’s eyes widen in surprise before he looks away. 

 

“Just school, you know how it is.” he lies.

 

Iwai has seen that look before, has seen the bruises hiding under the kid’s blazer before too.

 

It’s a obvious lie, but it’s also none of Iwai’s business, so he ignores the evasion and turns back to the magazine in front of him. Sleepless teenager all but forgotten,except for the eye that stays vigilant in case the kid’s fingers start feeling a bit sticky.

 

It’s just to keep him in line. (regardless of the fact that the kid has been here before and has been nothing but well mannered) He’s not concerned.

 

But then the kid stumbles into one of his displays.

 

There’s a clamoring bang as the kid falls over onto the floor, the postcard stand he had in the corner of his shop tumbling down on top of him, heavily enough that it makes even Iwai wince.

 

He’s about to come around the counter to help the kid up when he suddenly scrambles to his feet, a panicked look on his face as he takes stock of the mess he made of the shop. 

 

The kid’s shaking like a drunkard that just got home to find his wife waiting for him with a bat in hand. His eyes glued to the floor, to the bent out of shape magazines and postcards. Then, his legs give out below him and his knees hit the linoleum with a resounding crack.

 

“Hey kid.” 

 

Iwai finally breaks himself out of his stupor as the kid starts to pick up his merchandise in a frenzy only matched by the apologies leaving his mouth, “I’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’ll clean this up and pay for anything that was damaged-”

 

“ _ Kid _ ” 

 

And the kid.

 

_ Flinches. _

 

He flinches, and in the next breath rubs at his eyes like he wants to tear them out of his head. Then, he takes a deep, shuddering breath, and meets Iwai’s eyes. His own eyes filled with tears that he’s clearly fighting to hold back. His shoulders so stiff they’re made of a crumbling stone.

 

Iwai will deny it until he’s in the grave, but in that moment all he can see is red.

 

It’s just some random kid.

 

But for a moment he sees a boy a bit younger, with glasses more square than round and he can’t help but think _what_ _if_.

 

And that’s really the crux of it, isn’t it. What if.

 

Damn, he really has gone soft, hasn’t he.

 

He steadfastedly avoids the kid’s eyes as he slips off his hat and rests it on the boy in front of him. Tugging the bill down to hide his eyes.

 

“None of that kid.” he presses, “Just move and let me clean up.”

 

\---


End file.
